


Ever After

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff and Angst, Gen, based on a doujinshi, but a g-rated movie wouldnt have the word bastard in it so, but only a bit of angst, i guess it was supposed to be romancey but its really not, ish, only rated for slight language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3416951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the doujinshi of the same name, America heads over to England's to apologise for picking fights. Instead, he finds a book which gives him strange dreams and America starts to question his and England's relationship...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Book

**Author's Note:**

> hi so i'm gonna try post a multichap  
> hopefully it won't suck  
> also it based on this doujin  
> http://miyu-hearts.tumblr.com/post/103515181334/ever-after  
> and i really wanted to adapt it  
> i will mark it as complete because i suppose it could work on its own, but please tell me if it doesnt

“England!”

America pounded on England’s front door, but to no avail, and the house stayed silent. _I guess he’s not home…_ America thought. He had been hoping to say hello, and maybe to apologize. Not much apologizing had been done lately.

 _Is he still mad at me?_   America’s mind wandered, remembering the argument they had had at the last world meeting. In hindsight, he couldn't remember what it was they were arguing about.

In fact, now that America thought about it, he and England had been fighting more than usual.

America scratched his head. “Where did he go?” he asked himself. If he wasn't here, he was at the pub. England never seemed to leave to go anywhere else, anyway. _No,_ he thought. _It’s only midday._

_Maybe he’s in the garden._

The blond American spun on his heel and headed around to the back of the old house. There, the garden sat, just as pristine as it normally was, or maybe more so, because the sun was shining in place of the steady drizzle that seemed to be a constant here at England’s house.

And it was empty.

Sighing, America turned around, only to see a door hanging open from the corner of his eye. It led into the main building, so America figured it was a back entrance he didn't know about.

Reaching the door, he pushed it further open, stepping into a dark room.

 _Oh,_ he thought, _not a back entrance._

 _“_ What is this place?” America mumbled. “It’s so dusty…

“England?”  

The room turned out to be a hall, and the light streaming in behind America illuminated dust floating around and on the shelves and racks that lined the walls. They and the various fabrics, books and knickknacks were all coated in dust, dulling the colours and giving them a velvety appearance.

Making his way through, America spotted something that wasn't greyed and powdery-looking. A book, lying on an old desk.

Picking it up, America saw that though it was clean, it was very old.

 _What kind of book is this?_ He wondered, leafing through it.

Suddenly, something behind him dropped to the wood floor. America jumped slightly, and turned to see where it came from.

“Ah!” He exclaimed. “England?!”

England stood in the hall, wearing both a jumper and a cardigan, despite the warm weather outside. His face was red, his eyebrows were furrowed, and he was as still as the books he had just dropped.

They stood, facing each other for a moment, before England swiped at America’s arm, holding tightly onto it.

“Bloody hell!” he cried. “Why are you here?”

England started to drag America to the door.

“Wait, England, I-”

“No! I don’t want to hear it! Get out!”

“England-”

“Get out now!”

 

* * *

 

When America got back to his flat, he flopped onto his bed and sighed.

_I made him angry again. It wasn’t intentional! Was there such a need to get so mad?_

America held up the book, examining it. The plain, cream cover was blank and held no author nor title, as was the spine.

 _Moreover,_ America continued to himself, _he kicked me out so quickly I didn’t have time to put this back. I bet he’ll get mad again._

America lifted the book up above his head and looked at it from below. _No matter how I look at it, it’s just an ordinary book…_

Then, a thought popped into his mind. _Don’t tell me… He’s hiding a secret in this book?_

Grinning to himself, America rolled onto his stomach, opening the book to the first page, and began to read.

            **A long, long time ago in a faraway land, there lived a prince. Although the prince had everything he wanted, he wasn’t happy, because he was alone. He was always lonely, and there wasn’t a day where he wouldn’t cry to himself.**

**One day, while sitting in the royal garden, thinking about how he wished he had a friend, he heard a voice.**

**“What’s wrong, your highness?”**

**The prince looked up to see a little green bird looking curiously at him.**

**“I have no friends,” answered the prince, “and I am very alone.”**

**“Neither do I,” said the bird. “Since that’s the case, let’s be friends!”**

“Meow…!”

America’s cat rubbed his head into his shoulder.

“What is this?” America asked his cat. “This book is so boring!

“It’s for children… What’s more, the bird can talk! Animals can’t talk! It reminds me of England’s imaginary friends…”

America yawned and stretched out, rolling onto his back. _And here I was, thinking this would be interesting!_ He thought. _I got my hopes up for nothing._

“Hnn… I’m getting sleepy…” America said to no one in particular.

_What a waste of time…_

* * *

 

            America opened his eyes.

            He was lying in a patch of sweet-smelling flowers, in the shade of a birch tree. He was on a hill that looked down over a castle, the blue sky and warm sun shining over it. There were a few clouds that cast cool shadows and a soft breeze drifting through the air.

            America lay for a minute, before sitting up and realizing he was clad in the clothes of a prince.

_Where… am I?_

            A faint tune floated along on the breeze, prompting America to stand up and look around.

_Is that someone singing?_

            He looked around for the source of the singing, for it reminded him of the lullaby England sang to him when he was a child.

            “England?” said America, hesitating a bit. The singing grew louder, until America traced the tune to an oak tree on the edge of a dark green forest. He looked up, expecting to see England, (only he and America knew it, as England said the fairies had taught it to him when he was young) but instead there was a little green bird.

            “Eh? A bird?” said America.

            “Oh, hello again your highness,” said the bird. “Welcome back. Did you find anything?”

_I-it talks!?_

            “Hm?” asked the bird, as if it could read his mind, “do you still remember me?”

            The bird kept opening its beak, as though it were still talking, but America couldn't hear it clearly enough to understand words.

* * *

 

RRRRRRRRIIINNNGGGG!

America’s phone buzzed and rang on his bedside table.

 _Weird… what was that?_ America thought, before picking up the phone, seeing that it was England.

“Hey,” he said, “what’s up?”

“It’s me,” England said.

“Y-yeah?”

“When you came over…”

 _Crap,_ America thought, _he sounds pissed_.

“Did you take anything?”

America glanced at the book lying on his sheets _. I… I’ve gotta be careful not to let him know…_

“N- Nope!” he said. “I put everything back in their original place! Did you even search properly?”

America laughed, then immediately hoped it didn’t sound nervous.

“You are getting old!” he said in an attempt to cover it up, but England had said goodbye in a rough tone and hung up before America could finish.

“Geez, don’t hang up on me like that,” America said to the phone.

_But… that dream just now… how exactly did that happen?_

_Is it because of this book?_

_The dream felt so real…_

“Ah~ what am I talking about?” America said. “In the end, it’s only a dream.”

_I’ll go back to bed. After all, everyone’s expecting the hero to arrive tomorrow._

_I’ll have a…_

_Nice dream…_

 

* * *

 

            America’s eyes opened again, and he was lying in the same field as before.

            “Are you serious?” he asked himself. “I’m back to the same dream?

            Aha... ha! It’s just a coincidence!”

            America rubbed his forehead with a silk gloved hand. Suddenly, the little green bird flew down and landed on America’s chest, asking, “Do you remember me?”

            “Oh!” said America, “you’re the talking bird from before!”

            The bird gave a tiny sigh. “I guess you still don’t remember who I am.”

            “What are you talking about?” said America. “Didn’t we just meet?

            “Back on the topic, where is this place anyway?”

            “This is where we always play together,” said the bird, jumping onto America’s hand. “I would be here every day to tell you all sorts of stories, and you never wanted to go back home.”

            “Eh?” asked America. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else… it’s my first time coming here, birdie.”

            “Ah! It’s time to go back!” cried the bird, and he flew off America’s hand and into the air.

            America watched the bird as it flew away and onto another hand, the hand of a young boy. Looking closely, America gasped in disbelief. “This is…

            “…Me when I was younger?”

            “Who’s that?” said the prince.

            “He’s a prince, just like you,” said the bird.

            “You’re referring to me?” asked America.

            “He’s gotta be a bad guy!” cried the prince. “Let’s run away and escape!”

            “Hey!” America shouted back. “I’m too cool to be a bad guy!”

            “This prince doesn’t remember me anymore… he’s a bad guy after all!” said the bird.

            “Don’t care about him,” said the prince, “play with me!”

            America reached out, but the younger he shouted, “Stop! Don’t come any closer!

            “There’s no need to be afraid, birdie! I’ll protect you!”

            The prince stroked the bird’s head carefully. “You’re always by my side, no matter what happens, so I won’t ever let you be alone!”

            “You’re really important to me, the most important, so…” started the prince.

_What’s he talking about?_

            “Since you’re so important to me, I’ll never forget you!”

_Huh?_

            “I definitely won’t hurt you either!” said the prince. Although he was talking to the bird, he was looking straight at America, big blue eyes staring into his.

            ”Definitely not make you cry…”

            A picture of England sobbing appeared in America’s head, making his heart clench.

            “Definitely not betray you…

            What about you?” said the prince, leaning in and talking in America’s ear.

            “Other prince? Everything I just mentioned… have you… already done them?”

            America’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. He blinked.

* * *

 

America lay in his bed, breathing heavily. His cat pawed at him, as if asking if he was okay.

_How…_

_Why did I just dream that?_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will update as soon as i can  
> please review!


	2. The Author

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are  
> this one's a little shorter

The following day, America went to his local library. He sat down at a table in one of the quietest parts, surrounded by fairytales and myths, and stared intently at the book.

For some reason, he felt worried. About what, America didn’t know.

While analyzing the exterior of the book, America mused to himself. _I’ve been having that same dream continuously… even in my naps!_

America gave a sigh of exasperation, forehead hitting the table. _I didn't think too much about the story when I first read it..._  he thought, looking back up at the book.

_But meeting the brat and the bird… it reminds me of the past…_

Then, out of nowhere, an accented voice burst through the silence of the deserted library.

“Oh?” it said, “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

America looked up. “France?”

“Oui,” France said, giving a teasing grin, “are you looking for someone to read out loud to you?”

“H-hey!” America said, “of course not!”

“Are you sure? You’ve been staring at that book for a while,” France responded.

“Were you watching me?”

France didn’t answer, instead opting to sit next to America. He picked up the book that had been under America’s watchful eye, and read a section.

“Hmm?” he said after a while, “I didn’t expect you to take an interest in such stories.”

“Wait,” America said, “people still read this kind of stuff?”

“What’s the matter?” France asked, his voice taking on a motherly feel, “Did you read it to calm down after something bad happened?”

“What do you mean by that?”

France gave a nervous laugh. “Hey, is that a joke?”

His eyes widened when America slowly shook his head.

“Hey, there’s a limit to the number of jokes big brother can take!”

When America’s face remained blank, France sighed and began to explain. “This type of book was very popular during war. During times of hardship, when people felt upset, they tended to turn their attention to books like these. I know I did.

“Basically, they’re trying to escape from reality.”

America furrowed his brows. “Escaping from reality?” he asked. “Just by reading?”

France rubbed his temple and spoke in an annoyed tone. “You should really trust Big Brother sometimes you know. Usually the authors that wrote the book wanted to escape from reality more than their readers did.”

“The author?”

“…I’m referring to the author of this book.”

America picked up the book and searched for an author. Soon, he spotted a name on the inside of the back cover. “B. G. Robin? I’ve never heard of this author.”

France leaned over the table and looked at the name that was scrawled in cursive.

“Ah!” he said, “This pen name… isn’t it…?

“I think I know this author.”

America looked at France expectantly.

“Oui, I do. Should I tell you who it is?”

America jumped to his feet, clutching the book tightly. “France!” he said, “Tell me! Please!”

As France opened his mouth to answer, the book flew out of America’s hands and landed open on the carpet.

The two looked down at the page the book had landed on. “Huh?” America gasped. “This is…?”

 

* * *

 

That night, America shot to bed.

_Hurry up and let me sleep! I wanna enter that dream already!_

_I need to find that bird…!_

After a frustrating amount of time, America found sleep and let it wash over him.

 

* * *

 

            America’s eyes shot open and he immediately sat up, not bothering to look around at the scenery that had become so familiar to him.

            “Birdie!” called America.

            Without warning, the young prince ran past him.

            “Ah!” said America. “That brat…” he muttered, and chased after the prince.

            “Hey! Wait up!” said America, but the prince kept running.

            “I told you to wait!”

            The prince turned a corner, and America lost sight of him.

            “Crap!” said America.

            Turning the direction the prince had run, America found himself facing a wall of shrubs and plants. He pushed through layers of bushes and trees, the branches and leaves hitting his face as he ran.

            “Hey!” shouted America, “where… are you going…?”

            America slowed, ending up nowhere. The trees were still behind him, but in front of him was a vast nothingness, filled with white light and empty of any small princes. America suddenly felt as if there were a hole in his chest, wanting to be filled. He looked up for something, but only found bright, endless light. Looking forward again, he saw the little green bird perched on the ground (or lack thereof), staring faraway into the blankness.

            “Birdie?” said America. “So you were here all along? Where’s the little prince?”

            When the bird spoke, it sounded as sad and empty as the space around them.

            “… He’s not here anymore.” Said the bird.

            “Eh?” said America. “But I just saw him a while ago. He was running in this direction.”

            “He’s no longer here,” said the bird.

            “Why? I clearly saw-”

            “Enough.” Interrupted the bird. “He’s really gone.”

            “…what about you?” said America. “How long are you going to wait for him?”

            “Until he comes back.” said the bird.

 

* * *

 

In the library, America held the open book in his hands, France looking on.

“This book doesn’t have an ending...” America whispered, staring at the blank page. Turning back one, he read,

                        **The prince left the bird alone to explore the world. Ever since then, the bird has always been alone, waiting for the prince to return.**

 

* * *

 

            “…If this goes on…” said America to the bird, “are you really ready to keep waiting for him like this?”

            “I’m fine with that,” said the bird.

            “How is that okay?” cried America. “…If this goes on, you’re going to be here alone, staring into space every day…!”

            America closed his eyes. When he opened them again, gone was the little bird, and in its place a human with choppy blond hair stood, wearing a green uniform.

            _“England…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to mark it as incomplete for now  
> last chapter up tomorrow hopefully!  
> please review and stuff :)


	3. The End

Sliding into the chair in front of his laptop, America hurriedly logged in and looked up B. G. Robin. He ran his hands through his hair once he saw what popped up.

“British Garden Robin?”

* * *

 

                                             “…I was… created by him…” said the robin.

                                             “…The prince was, too. If… If I’m here… I’ll continue living in happiness… I’m bound to find a happy ending here. It was supposed to be gratifying, but…”

 

**‘Said the robin. He hopped onto the prince’s shoulder and they sat together, looking at the sunset that was only the beginning.**

**The Start’**

**England smiled sadly at the book in front of him, blinking through the tears that ran down his face. “What am I writing about?” he asked, “There’s nothing to escape from…**

**“How shameful…”**

**England dropped the quill and ink and tore out the page he had just finished writing, sobbing and hiding his head in his arms.**

                                            

                                             America looked at the robin, slowly thinking of what to say.

                                             “You already know all that, but you’re still gonna wait for him?”

                                             “I’ll wait for him no matter how long it takes,” said the robin.

                                             “But he’s not in this world anymore!”

                                             “I… I am not the ‘England’ that you want, so leave me alone.”

                                             “How can I leave you alone!?” cried America. “I don’t care if it’s you or him, I don’t want to see that kind of face on either of you! I’m sorry, but I’m not the prince you’re waiting for.”

                                             America took the robin’s hand on one of his own, and held it gently.

                                             “Even so…” he said, “I refuse to leave you alone in this place!”

                                             The robin was silent for a moment, before sighing lightly. “Ah…” he said, “England really is a strange man. He already has you, so why did he write a book like this?”

                                             The robin brought a hand to America’s cheek, along with a whispered ‘thank you’.

                                             “But I’ve never been able to leave this spot,” said the robin, while the touch on America’s check grew fainter. America could only stare as the robin started to disappear, flashing in and out of the emptiness behind him.

                                             “Because this is the end of the book.”

                                              And America was alone.

* * *

 

 

America sat bolt upright in his bed, the blank pages of the book staring up at him patronizingly.

_Is this really the end?_

_What a stupid story…_

He picked up the book and wiped away tears he didn’t know were there. Glancing at the torn page, an idea formed in his mind.

_Let’s leave it to the hero to change the ending!_

 

* * *

 

England shifted at the sound of the doorbell ringing and the handle shaking. Yawning, he got out of bed and rubbed at his eyes.

_Who could be causing such a ruckus this early?_

“England!”

Suddenly, England was no longer tired. “Ah!” he cried. “Bastard! How did you get in?!”

“It’s done!”

“Huh? What’s done?”

“I finished the ending of this book!” America shouted, holding up the pages filled with his sloppy handwriting. England turned bright red.

“What!? S-so it was you who took it?! You idiot!”

America suddenly wrapped his arms around the smaller nation, much to the latter’s chagrin.

“H-hey! Wait! What the hell are you doing!?”

“It’s okay…” America mumbled, burying his face into the collar of England’s pajamas, dampening them with the tears that were forming.  “I won’t ever let you feel lonely ever again!”

“A-America! I have no idea what you’re talking about… Anyway, I have you with me, so there’s no way I’ll feel lonely. I’m not angry at the book anymore, so stop crying!” England said, patting America’s arm.

“Then…Make a promise with me.”

“Pardon?”

America drew back a little and stared into England’s green eyes. “Don’t ever write this type of book again,” he said, pulling England’s head into his chest.

“Idiot! I didn’t write that book!” England said, voice muffled by America’s hoodie, but America was too emotional to hear or care.

“Don’t write this anymore!” America said. “You can’t!”

“I’ve told you, I didn’t write it! I still have no idea what’s going on, but OK! I promise, alright?

I’ve already reunited with you, why would I ever write such things again?”

 

                               **Actually, the prince came back to see the robin…**

                                           

* * *

 

                                             The prince appeared beside the robin, smiling brightly. The robin felt tears come to his eyes as the prince fell to his knees, kissing the robin’s hand. Standing back up, the prince hugged the robin tightly, and the robin hugged back, happy to see his old friend again.

The two embraced, and it was the beginning of something new.


	4. The Omake

England skimmed over what America had written smiling to himself.

“Well?” America asked, “What do you think?”

“It’s lovely,” England said. The grammar and spelling were atrocious, but it’s the thought that counts, isn't it?

Turning to the last page, England froze, and a blush crept up his neck.

“What the hell did you draw in my book?” he said.

It was a picture of the prince (who looked suspiciously like America) holding the robin (who look suspiciously like England) bridal style, under an archway decorated with flowers and ribbons.

It was obviously a wedding.

Not only that, but the robin – _England_ – wearing a long dress and a veil.

“Y-you bastard! Why did you draw this!?”

America laughed. “It’s so cool, right?”

And above it, written in what England thought was the nicest he had seen America write, were the words:

**_‘And they all lived super duper happily ever after!'_ **


End file.
